


Drafted/Unfinished stories

by Anonymous



Category: Black Lagoon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Relationships: Balalaika/Rebecca "Revy" Lee
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	1. Paperwork

Paperwork was always an unpleasant sight to see sitting at Balaliaka’s desk. Revy stood there in front of it as she winced at the squeaking of a hard-pressed pen against paper. 

There’s a thought that lingered in Revy’s mind over how much the blonde looked like something out of a painting. A fancy one too, with gold on the sides and not a speck of dust insight as you see the cracks between books and witness beads of light that shovel through. 

But right now the painting looked more like one that was right before impeding doom was going to bomb a city and reap and sow everything in sight only for death to be the final acting image. 

And the thing that was causing it all was a new group of people that’s been running through the city. They’re Japanese, and ride motorcycles and they deal business the same as Hotel Moscow. 

The worst part would probably be street racing. The thundering sounds of the motorcycles in the city have been disturbing Balaliaka’s beautiful sleep the last couple of nights even with Revy in her arms. 

Though it was all right. Or it was going to be, Revy already set up a plan on how to deal with the situation. She just hoped it would be worthwhile, even with the phantom swords that keep flashing in her dreams. 

That’s one thing that she’s wary about. They’re ronin, with samurai swords and there’s an entire army of them on fast speeding motorcycles that’ll catch her in an instant if she tries to run. And for the swords, if she won with Rock’s help of all people it won’t be a good match against the leader of the group. 

Or maybe the problem was that the restaurant that they were planning to go to got bombed in the last week. 

A ringing sound entered Revy’s ears as the phone started to ring and Balaliaka’s lips moved in a near growl as her large hand gripped onto it. Revy looked at the door and her foot already scooted closer to it to make a run for it.

But a flash of blue eyes stopped her and an acrylic nail pointed at one of the couches and Revy felt the command of the word sit. Normally she would’ve huffed and given a retort or even kick the leg of the couch but she remembered that the hand holding the phone choked her regularly for sexual pleasure and she chewed her lower lip at the thought of what an actual punishment would include. 

A deep voice was coming through the line and Revy started to tap her foot as worry clouded her at the sharp tone Russian Balalaika used against the voice. 

/You’re in a room with a pissed woman who can start world war three./

When the call ended that was all Revy could think about in her mind as it ran around a turning carousel. 

She was able to hear Balaliaka fucking /breathe/ in chilling anger and she looked at the ground with hunched shoulders. What if she got hit? What if Balaliaka decided to use everything on her now that’s she’s in a room with her. 

“Sis?” 

The nickname came out as a squeaky sound filled with a boiled mix of fear and anxiety as Revy started to tap her foot faster. 

Balalaika didn’t answer. She was able to hear the sound of a phone number being dialed and when she looked at Balaliaka her eyes filled with hope until the blonde rolled her eyes and turned her back on Revy. 

With gritted teeth, Revy stood up from the couch and stood at the desk once more. Her hands placed themselves on cool wood and she recognized the other voice on the line this time to be Chang. 

Balalaika’s voice was hush and low, so quiet that Revy wasn’t able to hear her. When she hung up, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m meeting with Chang. That means you’ll have to leave Two Hands.”  
————  
She was gone a long time. It was nearly midnight when Revy heard her open the door to the apartment. 

Revy walked over to her, noting the purple hue that hung under her eyes as her broad shoulders were slumped in exhaustion. When hands went to a coat, going to take it off, Balaliaka simply stared at her with a blandness that had her cringe. 

The stare put a glass veil over Revy, making her feel like a simple low-ranking soldier with no honor or worth to even touch her leader, her /queen/.

“I’ve got it,” Balaliaka said. 

In response Revy put on her bland stare in return, backing up with hands raised as if it was a cop in front of her instead of the Russian. 

And that’s how it was. Cop and prisoner and Revy could already feel death crawling along with her lungs as she took a breath and an invisible jumpsuit was on her as the taste of cum curled in the back of her throat.

She watched Balaliaka brush past her, as she got out of her heels and put her coat away as she made her way toward the bed. Revy followed and viewed the site of scars being revealed underneath removed clothes.

The sight had her become more detached as she ran her fingers through her hair. A knot stopped it from running all the way through and she drew a silent curse at how it’s not been combed in a while. 

“How’d it go?” Revy asked.

Balalaika looked at her and gave a humorless laugh. “Business as usual. Not like you would know much would you?”

Revy said nothing at that. A tightness built up in her throat at the familiar face of being in front of someone smarter, better than her and them knowing it and flaunting it off. Like that bitch Janet. 

“Guess I wouldn’t. She laughed, “Least I know how to deal drugs the right way. Her head tilted to the side as her hair covered her eye, “Though I think Ripoff Church is beating you there aren’t they? “

Balalaika scoffed. Her eyes were full. A deep blue that withheld anger and mockery. She took a step closer, her form shadowing over Revy. 

“Oh? I’m sorry.” Her face was mocking in nature, as she tsked, “I suppose I’m no match for a brat like you to know how to properly do business. However, you already have so much experience dealing drugs, don’t you?”

Revy took a step back and Balalaika stepped forward. Revy’s lips were pulled back in a snarl. 

“Back in New York with rat-infested alleyways stuffing dollar bills into your pockets?” 

“You...” 

Balaliaka put her hands on Revy, keeping her still as she tried to pull away. Revy felt the acrylics digging into her skin and she bit her lip at the pain. “Go to Hell!” Balalaika didn’t respond to the yell at her face besides releasing her from her grasp.

Revy turned on her heel and marched to the door, ignoring the voice behind her. She marched all the way until she was out of the building. Away from a Russian warmonger who clearly doesn’t give a shit about her now.

She dug into her pocket for her phone. Once she found it she dialed in a number.


	2. Glory of Two Hands

It was a dirty sight to see. It felt almost shameful to see the shell of...Two Hands. Rotten misery surrounded her being, her entire self felt grotesque to even lay eyes on and yet Balalaika did so anyway.

Without a bat of an eye she let her eyes see the dazed gaze that settled within brown, or black for the matter. Her eyes were so dark they looked fully black, as if she was a demon straight from the icy pits of Hell. 

Black circles around Revy’s eyes had her appear as a raccoon or someone much older and so so tired at her peak age. 

There was a soft lavender bruise near her breast, already turning a rough yellow on the mere edges. Her left eye was the same way, swollen and bruised; hurt.

She’s almost broken. That’s the realization that Balalaika comes to as she scans her eyes over Revy again and for a split second the clock ticked back and she saw herself, sitting with scars and nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. 

A switch of light changes and she could see Revy’s jawline. It had a red bruise as well, fresh with a handprint. And fingers were below it as well as if she was forced to stare at someone.

The next thing Balalaika looked at was knuckles. Blood was smeared on them, some of it dry while another knuckle had it fresh. It cling to the skin, acting as a second wall of protection.

As if saying a message of what happened to the last person who got those knuckles to the face. 

That brought Balalaika to observe Rock. He was talking to Chang and he had no bruise or blood anywhere on him. He was spotless and clean, all spiffy and bright for the meeting. He had a perk in his voice as he spoke. A slow conclusion started to rack her brain as he glanced at her, glanced with so much pride, ego and pompous winning energy that she’s certain her eye twitched. But then it was over and he was back to talking to Chang. 

He must’ve pushed Revy over the edge or done something to nearly break her. To destroy someone who laugh at death, when they’ve become death themselves. 

She looked back at Revy and her eyes were so dull and hollow. It was as if she was already seeing a photograph of a living corpse; one of the walking dead.


	3. First meeting

Balalaika has never had much...fun during sex. Past affairs were enjoyable, though they were never something that she longed for or thought much of after. Then came along Two Hands with all of her fighting spirit and vigor still residing inside her as she mocked soon to be corpses. One thing lead to another and Balalaika learned that there is some fun in sex.

Somehow the girl always managed to draw Balalaika’s gaze toward her, wherever she went. Even when she was first saved by Dutch she stood out. 

Once she was bandaged up by Dutch with the assistance of “Revy” the two of them were left to their own accord. Weariness and caution was obvious in Revy’s form as she tried her best to be subtle about looking at the scars that riddled the blonde’s body. 

They conversed, and as the conversation went on Revy grew more stiff and guarded, as if she somehow knew that the full truth wasn’t being told to her. Cigarettes fixed that problem as they went outside of Revy’s cabin to smoke. Balalaika ignored the playboy magazine and posters of women that was within the room. 

“Here,” Revy said, holding out a cigarette box. Lucky Strike was the brand of cigarettes that the girl offered to Balalaika. So she took it between her fingers, watching as Revy dug a lighter out of the pocket of her shorts. Crease lines ran across underwear at the action, teasing blue eyes as it boldly peeked out between an opening in shorts. 

Brass glinted in the light, the shine of it forming a line of light on a face. A woman is portrayed on the lighter as a blonde with curls, and Revy seemed to take that in as she bit her bottom lip. Balalaika opened the palm of her hand right as the flame was about to touch Revy’s own cigarette. 

“Hand it over.” 

The girl paused at that, taking in the woman sitting next to her. Then her eyes strayed on  
the flame in front of her, the tuft of a blue flame emerging from the bottom. Revy didn’t listen to the woman, ignoring the direct order as she let the flame burn the cigarette. 

The fire is lit and the lighter made a noise when it was set down. Revy focused her attention on the cigarette, ignoring her companion. 

A clinking sound was made as a ring met the lighter. Revy twitched for a moment, though kept her gaze on her cigarette, her eyes burning bright as smoke left lungs. Balalaika lit her own cigarette, biding her time until the rest of her men would show up. 

“You going to say thank you?” Cool air swept over Balalaika’s form, her blonde hair drifting in the wind as the boat continued at top speed over waves of water. 

“Why should I?” 

Revy did a double take at that, her face morphing into anger “Why? We fuckin’ rescued you! And I even let you out for a smoke break.”


	4. Phantom Pain

Tiled floor rang against boots as a garrote wire slipped around a neck. Choking sounds were strangled out of a throat and for a split second brown eyes stared into blue eyes.

Revy backed up with the nurse and hands were up to the wire to untangle it and in response she pulled tighter to the point that feet lifted off the floor. 

After a few moments the squirming stopped and she breathed in and out as she stood up and circled around the curtain. The doctor showed the blonde a mirror and that’s when Revy struck.

Garroting him and watching as the mirror shook in his grasp as his head leaned back. A red grin line appeared on his neck, a fresh wound appearing as he clicked his legs in the air as they went farther and farther back. 

He brought out a gun and she let out a grunt as she pulled back with all of her might to the point that he was at an angle in the air. 

His legs kicked and she heard a thump sound. Finally the struggle was over as the doctor met his fate. She came around the bed and stood with her back to it as she pressed her radio.

“Not yet. The patient in the next bed saw my face.” A murmur worded out in her ear. “Of course. Consider it done.”

She set the radio down and brought out a knife from its sheath. The woman was belly on the ground and Revy stepped close to the gun that was laying on the ground. 

A hand was reached toward the gun and she picked it up and raised it at a face. Something slammed into her body and a figure was on her back, putting her in a chokehold. She stumbled into a table and both her and the figure fell. 

Revy growled as she elbowed the man in the ribs several times until she was able to throw him across the room. He slammed into the wall as he scooted backwards on his hands. He threw several things at her including a bottle filled with liquid and it spilled along her body. She took out a knife and threw it at him and it pierced his body. 

He grunted in pain and she stepped closer until she was to the woman again. She grabbed her and brought her on her feet and she gritted her teeth as her hands found their way to her neck. 

Breath gasped out as they were taken to the floor. She screamed as a knife was thrown at her and a lighter was thrown at the curtains and puddle of liquid. A fire was started and she jumped out of the window. 

That was the first time she met the woman. The second time they met didn’t go much better. In fact it went worse. 

Northern Kabul, Afghanistan  
Aabe Shifap Ruins

Revy was able to spot the woman and her finger pulled a trigger. She missed of course, since the blonde dove for a nearby stone pillar. It’s different...this time. It’s more inducing to miss and see what the woman will do. 

In one second a bullet grazed her cheek and she retreated back to another sniping point around the ruins. She stayed still, letting her sight gaze over the landscape in search of blonde hair. That is until she smelled gun smoke and turned just in time to see the woman.


	5. Ronnie’s misfortune

Hazy whiteness and curls of smoky air currents stroke the artist canvas that is oxygen that gift is humans life. Wet darts of rain are pounding on a windbreaker as an exhale of breath escapes me, leaving a pitiful cloud to be the only trace of my lungs working. 

All of it looks the same wherever you are on this planet. When you tilt your head upwards to the sky and witness another artist being compelled by God himself to do his job of reminding the ants on Earth that they don’t have control over what they’re always goin’ to be unable to control. 

Yeah, that’s a confident reminder that like all people, I’m human. Even in a place like Roanapour a person even more terrible than me is still human and not a God that humble lambs of the church worship on their knees in shitty pews; as they stare with doe eyes at their only hope and savior, as they wish that the blessing of living will get a tiny bit better.

Bloodshot red

That’s the blotchy color that bled like sweat from a vampire’s skin when the leather of a fingerless glove met a face. There’s a lotta shades for red, and they’ve all been seen through dull, empty, devoid eyes. It’s a run on joke that rots my brain. 

Many have spread words against my corpse as their description fits every check mark on the box of just what I am. All that’s made clear by the end of the conversation is that they were just talking to a rabid mutt with soulless eyes, as gums are exposed and foam is frothing and overflowing, out of a cursed mouth that’s crimson red. 

Despite that, I would still fucking bet on my own two cutlasses that Sofiya’s own scars have a higher number count of the shades of that devious color. A growl oftentimes bubbles up in my throat at the thought of all that blood being the result of meticulous and thoughtful torture. The mere thought of MY Sis, goin’ through so much pain, yet her soft lips are willing to gift gentle kisses as her strong secure arms caress a dog with rabies. 

All of it is fuckin’ perfect. 

What’s not perfect is the screech of a metal chair turning, as I sit atop of it. My tongue began to fondle a cigarette while my arms crossed, brushing metal. The blood was staining the floor where the kid sat, as the fucker started to grin at the sight of the red dripping from her nose, as it started to consume her pearly white teeth. Wipe of a hand and now both rabid dogs had blood on the knuckles of their hands. 

“You and I are alike.” 

Blood rushed through my veins at those words that spewed out of the little bitch’s mouth. And I saw red. All I saw was red. Sis would’ve seen red too. Since she’d be the one shouting the orders that would leave her...gun in a worse state than Hansel was left in. 

What the fuck are you supposed to think at that point? When a vampire tells you that you both have the same stench?

So I didn’t think. Ignorance became my best fucking buddy as I acted like my usual self and just told myself the whole thing was bullshit. Bullshit wouldn’t be the word that Balalaika would think of if Two Hands ever told her about the conversation. A target with the word enemy would be printed on my face in red marker. 

Drinking and smoking also came along with the ignorance. The thought of doing either activities became inviting like a glass of wine from Jesus Christ himself whenever anything related to the twins was mentioned. 

They were kids; children. Rock tried to save one of them, and as expected it didn’t work. Anything hits harder or not at all when you’re that young in life. Maybe it was a saving grace that they had gone insane and didn’t realize that they had a few screws loose. A saving grace that they weren’t even aware that kids their age had better lives. 

Ignorance is a blessing for the vampire twins and me. A possibility is present in a mind after talking to said vampire twin. Did the same thing happen to me? Not the whole snuff film gladiator arena thing. 

Still, it got me thinking and pondering over what similarities could be present in me and a vampire twin. Sex and murder. Pretty vague, though it’s a start. 

Complicated is what those two topics are. A bulletin list is what I need. Making one, i finally had a head start in finding out what the fuck made a vampire say that utter bullshit. 

1\. Never been in a snuff film. 

Yeah, that was the farthest I got my investigation. Closest thing I could think of to that was doing a two pornos for Rowan. All that needs to be said is that bright pink bunny ears were involved and let’s say that the bunny had a lot of fun with other bunnies. The other one involved cowgirls and horses; halter and spurs were included as well. 

I really hope I never finds those porno in Benny’s collection. I also hope that Sis never sees them either. 

Which brings up the fact that pornos and snuff films still hold one thing in common; sex. Sex is not something that holds my attention. Or at least sex that concerns sexual attraction. 

With Rock the idea of sex does come to mind. It comes to mind whenever I’m drunk enough to consider the idea. Drunk me has two moods; playful and teasing or pissed off and vengeful. 

Playful and teasing leaves Rock flustered like a peacock. And hard as one too since I act like Eda when I rub against him and call him baby. Pissed off and vengeful leaves Rock either on the floor or him being choked by his tie, as it’s used to bring our lips inches away from each other. 

That’s been stopped. I can’t do that to my Sis. It feels like murder, and not the good kind either. Sexual attraction is definitely there with Sofiya. The mere thought of her has fingers going under grey panties as a knuckle or pillow is placed in a mouth. 

Sex is used as a weapon in prison. Power play is what it was. I didn’t do it for sexual attraction, first and more importantly was the fact of whether they were higher in the hierarchy or not. Attractiveness was only an added bonus. 

Only person who knows about that is Jane. Still unnerves me that Janet looked like she was considering the threat of not being able to return to Benny. After that, I avoided Janet just in case she was actually going to go along with it. It’s one thing for Janet to be a whore to Roanapur, it’s another thing is for Greenback Jane to become my personal whore. 

That’s a matter for another day, all of this paranoia over five words. What truth could there be behind a fucked up little menace’s words? All it is is just fucked up words in the alphabet on a weird ass lottery ticket. 

Murder is exactly like that lottery ticket; when the ticket is either all scratched out or thrown away. I doesn’t like the thought of being labeled as a murderer. What I do enjoy is shooting my guns, and that’s the part that ends up in murder. Bravado is what makes me boast about how I commits the murders. That’s just the way of life in this hell-hole city. 

Fabiola didn’t understand that part at all. Couldn’t understand that it’s part of fucking life. Thanking her own bitch of a mother for beating her black and blue? The kid is fucking brainwashed. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case for the little runt, yet here they are. 

Still, despite saying that sole reason I was lookin’ after Fabiola disappeared, it didn’t. It strengthened since the mini maid brought light to my eyes and made the pink dissipate and dissolve. Both her and Garcia and those kids in Japan are the only things that really give hope in somehow gaining a domestic life in the light. 

Rock had the chance to do that and he didn’t, he did not take the fucking chance of a lifetime in front of him. It stung worse than the sword in my knee when he kept lookin’ at a naive girl who committed suicide by a samurai sword. A sword that can split a bullet and a gun in half. 

That sword and Rock along with Balalaika all put together, resulted in the worst pain she felt in her life. I didn’t know how that sound of a scream like that managed to escape me. Would Sis flinch at the sound of her screams? Or would she nurse a cigar and laugh? 

Torture this and stay safe that, it all jumbles onto each other in a dog pile. Sis does care, in her own little way. Doesn’t matter at the end of the day when every mistake I makes puts strain on whatever the fuck we’re doin’.

Avoiding any contact with Sofiya has now become normal, since I can’t stand the thought of what they have ending. Even when talks about how the famous Two Hands is going to end up dead if i continue my shenanigans. I laughed at the word, which resulted in me being dismissed without any kisses, cuddles or sex. 

So here I am, three or four weeks later of not seeing Balalaika in the flesh. Well, that’s wrong, not seeing her Sofiya in the flesh is a better sentence. With each new clue in the “Vampire investigation” I can feel the Fever digging in more and more in her mushy mind. 

Like now, when Ronnie is in the same room as me. Another briefing of a job is occurring. I’m just staring at the sky, it’s the last thing Gretal saw before she died, will it be the same view for me as well? 

“Revy.” 

Damn, being an airhead isn’t goin’ to do any good for my rep. Clutching my head I stared at the swirling patterns of the carpet as I swallowed the extra saliva that’s sliding around my mouth. “Yeah Ronnie?”


	6. Gang Life

Everything hurt. All of it was painful. The entire initiation was just being a limp balloon to be stepped on. At first she fought, with her life on the line she fought like hell to prove her with. Her tongue ran on the inside of her mouth. She tasted fresh blood and bits of chewy flesh from the piece of ear she bit off. 

Climbing onto his back, she tried to choke the man with her arms around his neck while her legs wrapped around him and her mouth was set on his left ear. An elbow kept backing into her stomach, taking the breath out of her and pain buzzed on her skin as she clenched her teeth harder. 

Adrenaline was the only thing that kept her eyes open in those moments. A hand grabbed her hair and tears blurred her vision as her scalp felt like it was being ripped off. 

After a while her body got exhausted and she was thrown off, her back hitting the cement, a wheeze escaped her burning lungs. 

Fire and Ice clouded her senses as her warmth against the concrete stilled deep within her bones. Fists keep racking against her body, still doing so even though it passed three minutes. 

“Enough!” 

Revy couldn’t even move her body, her limbs felt like squished jello that had gone through a cheese grinder. Nonetheless she clenched her abs and sat up, then she stood. 

Wobbling for a few moments she fell again as her vision went worse. She could feel that the side of her head was dampened by blood, a groan escaped her as she got up again and this time she stood straight and tall.


	7. Prison

“What’s your full name?” 

Revy didn’t answer. Again the voice tried and still it failed. Her brain kept saying no as she remembered the harshness of the officer who dragged her across the cement by the metal of the handcuffs. Deep red lines had set around both of her wrists, causing pain to string along her body and settle deep on the pits of her conscience. 

She heard a laugh and saw that one of the two officers was clutching his stomach, nearly on his knees as he huffed and panted out faint breaths. 

“She’s Rebecca Lee!” His words rang against the walls and Revy stared at him. Straight in the eyes, without blinking she just stared. Once he caught her gaze the laughter stopped and he coughed before he waved a hand to the other cop. 

“Rebecca Lee, that’s her name,” he said.

The female cop turned to Revy and she said, “This is the first time you’re arrested for a felony charge, so I have to get your DNA.” She moved something on the computer. “It’s just a mouth swab and some fingerprints. Okay?”

She pointed to the ground, where there was a white X. “Just stand on the right X.” Revy didn’t move a muscle. She sat there, with nothing in her eyes.


	8. Chained

It was nighttime. Dark and quiet, the only noise left was the slow churning sound of the bus. The full moon above illuminated the world below. Much like the yellow lights on the inside of the bus that illuminated a dead face. 

That face belonged to Two Hands. She looked outside the window and saw the sight of a splattered picture of trees that lined up against the backdrop of the midnight sky. 

Something about being in handcuffs, in an orange jumpsuit, and behind a set of bars set something off in Revy. She wasn’t sure what though she could feel the change coursing throughout her body as she felt her shoulders stiffen and her jaw go slack. 

Next to her was a woman with glasses; a nerdy-looking geek with sweat on her hands and braces on her teeth. Who she was didn’t matter that much, Revy merely considered her a less slutty Janet.

Both of them were in a single cage and it jangled as it moved with the wheels on the bus. Red lights highlighted a jaw and Revy turned her head away from the stream of red that was entering her vision. Ears heard the bridge they were crossing over and the voice over the radio.

“Transport three thirty-four, we’re hearing an accident over on Linden Blvd. 

The guard looked at his radio, then held it up to his mouth. “Three thirty-four, roger that.” They continued down the road and Revy moved her wrists, feeling the harsh red lines that were running along her skin. 

“Tell the judge we’re going to be a little awhile.” She looked at the guard in the rearview mirror and his face morphed into one of a lesser mask. His blue eyes held understanding as he gazed at her. “We’ll peel off at rock-way Blvd.” 

A voice erupted behind Revy as he said, “Nah, just stay on eight seventy-eight the whole way.” 

The guard in front spoke into the speaker again, “Yeah, wait for one. My wife is giving me directions.” 

Revy laughed though realized too late that it came out as a coarse huff when she felt her partner move in the seat. 

Another yell from behind, “I don’t want to take the damn scenic route. You got all those stoplights downtown.” 

Grunting, the officer in the front started to move, and Revy saw his hand going up to his neck. “Oh, God, I can’t breathe!” She leaned over to see that one hand was still steering. 

The bus started to swerve and weave on the road as a result of the driver’s choking fit. The headlights shined on the road, revealing the short stone sides of the highway. 

The tires squealed like a pig as they shifted from one side to the other. Beyond the noise, Revy heard that the man behind her had gotten up.

“Richie?” More steps as he got closer to the front of the cage, red lights shined against his blue jacket, creating a purple color. The woman next to her moved to get a better look, her elbow poking Revy’s ribs. 

“Stop the bus.” His steps stopped as he grabbed his keys and inserted them into the lock. Revy shook her wrist and the handcuffs jingled in response. The woman looked down at the noise and saw silver. 

“Just pull it over to the side.” Again she moved the cuffs and stayed still, staring at the man’s neck in front of her. His back was facing her as he did an almost hunch to get a better look at the keyhole. His position had Revy hunch her shoulders, her eyes digging shards of glass on his back. 

The bus stopped as the driver stopped in the bike lane. He groaned more and the other guard hurried with the keys. Finally, it popped open with a click. 

“Richie! You okay?” 

Revy got up from her seat, having to pull hard against her partner to get her to stand. In an instant silver placed itself against the skin of a neck. She gritted her teeth as she pulled against him, pulling him further and further back. 

He gasped, the sound of it had her pull harder as his feet lifted off the ground for a full second. His feet returned to the floor and Revy could see the faint image of his veins. He started to choke and she felt a hand press back against her leg. She started to set him down as his breaths evened out, his eyes fluttering until finally, they closed. 

A moan came from the front of the bus. The woman next to Revy looked down at the body of the man. She started to push against her partner, forcing her out of the bus. 

“Come on, ” she said. “Let's get out of here.” They stepped down the steps of the van, exciting through the open door. The woman started to pant and huff as if she was the one who just killed a person. 

They ran out of the van and ran towards the woods. For a split second the lights of the bus created shadows of their figures and Revy saw the Devil himself, chained next to a bigger demon. She looked up in the window and saw blue eyes that stared back at her, unmoving. L 

She turned and headed straight for the forest. Her shoes thudded against the dirt as she jogged. They stopped at a nearby tree and looked back. The woman had her mouth open, still breathing in and out; living and breathing. Blood smeared on Rev’s lower lip, a straight vertical line down that lead to her chin. 

She breathed as well, watching the bus as the sliver of moonlight shined down on them sketched a new drawing. 

A new drawing that Revy will remember for the rest of her life. 

\---

Balaliaka got out of the car once it stopped. Her heels rang against the pavement as she stepped closer to the bus. She went up to the door and looked at both of her men. 

“How was it? Did our fugitive make a mess of things?” 

“Perfect, ” Kosloff said. “Though she was a little too rough.” He rubbed his beck, a thin line of red covered it. Balalaika eyed it and hummed. 

“Unfortunate. Though I suppose it was real enough for White to buy it?”

David nodded. “She bought it.” He smiled. “Real scared, could've smelled it, Kapitan.” 

Balaliaka did a small laugh at that and she saw a hint of a smile on Boris’s lips. “Good, at least Two Hands knows how to play the role of fugitive.” 

A ringing sound erupted from her suit and she grabbed it and answered. “I’m calling about the VW convertible.” 

“What?” 

“The ninety-two VW for sale.”

Balaliaka heaved a sigh and closed the phone. She started to walk back to the car and she heard the slow movements of Boris behind her. She got into the passenger side of the car while Boris got into the driver’s side. 

She dialed another number on her phone. “Do you have her?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, ” Balalaika said.  
\---

They were both panting. The sun was shining and everything was perfect in Mother Nature’s home. Except it seemed like she didn’t give a damn about the two of them.

Revy slipped a bit on the leaves and caught herself at the last second. She pulled her body back up and tugged her left arm to bring White closer. She continued to run until she heard a voice behind her. 

“Wait.” She hunched over and put a hand on her knee. Her face was red, exhaustion apparent as she kept panting like a dog. 

“I can't...I can't keep going.” She dropped down to her knees and Revy stumbled as she sat down as well. 

“Get up and run.” It came out as a near growl from Revy’s throat as she placed a hand on White’s back. She grabbed the material of the jumpsuit and tugged. White was back on her feet and Revy looked around the forest in case anyone was coming. 

“Let's go.” White shook her head no. She yelled, “Hey!” White jumped though stayed still. “I just killed a guy back there.” 

She pointed in the direction of where they came from. “I’m not gonna get caught.” She got closer to White, to the point that her breath moved strands of hair. “Now get up and run!” 

“Let's go!” She tugged on the woman’s clothing, trying to urge her on her feet. 

“If you kill me, you're going to have to drag me.” 

Revy closed her eyes and thought of booze, guns, and cigarettes. She calmed down and looked back at White. She was on the ground, looking like an absolute wreck. Everything above her neck still matched a tomato, and her glasses were messy with pieces of leaves and dirt. 

Revy spoke in a calmer tone. “Okay.” She kneeled till she was level with White’s face. “What’s your name?”

“Jenny,” she said. 

Revy nodded at the answer and took her right hand and placed it to herself. “I’m Rebecca.” Her tongue twisted in her mouths as she said it, the oddness of the situation catching back up to her. “You ever see The Defiant Ones, Jenny?” 

Jenny took a double glance at her. “What?” 

Revy took a glance back at where the cans from. She licked her lips and still tasted the dry blood on them. “The movie, The Defiant Ones. Tony Curtis, Sidney Poitier.?”

Jenny’s lips wobbled as tears swelled up in her eyes. “I think I’m having an asthma attack.” 

“It’s a great movie.” Revy moved closer and joined her hands together as she squatted. “These two guys, right? A black guy and a white guy escape from a Southern chain gang. They’re chained together, just like we are.” 

Jenny shook her head, her voice was still shaky. “We’re not black.” 

Revy gave her a look, an obvious duh on her face. “My grandmother was black.”

Jenny blinked at that. “Oh. Okay so what happens”

“They fight each other every step of the way.” She clasped her hands together, her forearms resting on her legs. She pointed to the cuff that was on Jenny’s wrist. The steel made noise as she did so. 

“Tony Curtis has an infected wrist, a bullet in his shoulder...”

Jenny looked at her, her eyebrows scrunched up. “Really?” 

Revy nodded. “Yeah, he had guts.” She placed her jeans on Jenny’s left shoulder. “Guts, Jenny.” She hit the shoulder a couple of times with her fist, almost knocking her partner over. 

“He doesn’t want to live in a cage.” She moved her face closer as she said the words, “I don’t want to live in a cage.” Jenny’s throat bobbed and she stared at the leaves on the ground. 

“So we’re going to get up.” Revy grabbed her by the shoulder again and held two fingers up, directing Jenny’s gaze to her eyes. “Jenny, we’re going to get up and we’re going to get out of here.” She pointed her thumb to the right, where they were supposed to be going. 

She poked Jenny in the chest with her finger. “Who’s Tony Curtis?” She repeated it. “Who’s Tony Curtis?” She shook Jenny.

“You are.” There was a forced grin on Revy’s face as she did so, trying her best to be encouraging. “Let’s go. Let’s go.” Dragging her up, Revy started to walk her. Or she sprinted starting and she heard a thunk sound. 

She looked down at Jenny’s limp body then back at the tree branch that hit her. Blood was on Jenny’s forehead and it didn’t look like she was going to wake up soon. 

“Fuck!” Revy started to curse, most of it made up words as she kicked the leaves and stomped on them. She ended up slipping and she sighed in defeat as she laid next to her unconscious partner. 

“Fuck my life.”


	9. Close enough

I don’t know the dead man, and I frankly don’t give a fuck over who he was or how he ended up that way.

He’s probably around six foot judging from how long he is, from the top of his head to his toes.

There’s another guy down below, gazing at the dead man. Possibly behind his mask, he has confusion in his eyes, confused over how who or what put the corpse up there. 

The guy tapped his foot a couple of times then looked up again. The wind was like a gun, shooting off rocks left and right. They hit steel metal. The result was a noise that rang out true like a gunshot as well. 

If the cold body was alive, there’s a chance he could’ve been a good man. One able to be a savior or white knight. Maybe that’s what killed him in the first place. It doesn’t matter anyway; everything dies out here one way or another—both the innocent and the not so innocent. 

There was dust along the ground, casting a brown shadow of a haze. I squinted up at the sky, looking at the spiky sun that cast its rays on me.

I peered over and saw that he had started to walk toward the lifeless, limp body. In his hand was a sniper; on his back an SMG. 

My buzz-axes continued to spin as I watched the guy below. As soon as he turned his head, I rolled into cover. If I’m lucky, he hasn’t noticed me yet. 

I jumped down from the rock and trailed behind him, matching each of his footsteps one by one. We’re the same, as long as I wish it. 

A part of me wants to shout out a quick quip before I kill him. Or to just shout out a warning to watch him flee as I chase him down. But what usually comes out of my mouth is far different. 

I soon started to switch the buzz-axes between my hands. I watched them jump across a short gap to reach the warmth of my flesh. They’re light, no bullets needed as I just smash ‘em to death, letting the metal collide against their skull. 

I let them both rise in the air as I released them from my hold. I jumped up to catch both in my hands. 

Once they were both settled within my grip, I stared back at the walking guy, the living man who should be dropping down on the ground, begging for mercy. Red clouded my vision, a scarlet deep blood red that oozed within the sockets of my eyes as I kept looking onward. 

I could hear each pebble being flung behind me as I started to sprint. I launched myself toward him. My foot stepped on top of a small fence, and I jumped. 

“Fuck you, you motherfuckin’ clown fucker!” Those are the exact words that can come out of my mouth as I killed him. The whole sensation of his death, watching the primal act of fear overriding his body as he flinched at the sight of me. His body language was that of a scared rabbit who hopped too far from home. 

I knew what I looked like at that moment. My tank top was riding up, my hair was in its usual ponytail, and it bounced as my pupils shrunk into a discarded ruby of color. 

Now that the moment was over, I could almost taste the spurts of blood that had splattered on my mask. 

A sour laugh gurgled in my throat at the thought of my words; they were close enough. 

This is me. 

“I’m ready for a fuck orgy!” 

Anything I say ends up being a jumbled mess of swear words and everything vulgar. My sanity is lost, and I’m one with the desert. 

“She can taste my slimy cock!” 

Even I grimace at the stuff that comes out of my mouth. And I was still doing it long after it was yelled out to the barren landscape. Thankfully it’s coherent sentences and not just random word afterword that doesn’t make sense. 

I stopped as I heard a rumbling and the ground vibrated under my feet. My head shifted behind me, and I jumped off the train tracks. All the dirt I fell on was hard, and it stung as I moved my body to look to the right of me. 

Oh, God. She’s armed with a legendary Dahl sniper rifle. It looks like a pitchfork variant too. She’s a vault hunter, a siren who could kill me with her brain. 

She saw me, and I could hear her words. “A psycho?” Fuck, her accent. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. 

Her hair was the color of the same sun that God must’ve created. Her eyes were that of a deep ocean whirlpool that could suck you in an instant, along with the fearsome scar that was brandished across her face and her arms. She was a real soldier through and through. The way she held her gun and held herself spoke of proper diligence and patience. 

I should tell her something. Like, your beauty outshines all of the world’s diamonds as you sparkle like the deep waters of the Earth. Your hair is that of a thousand suns. I need to be saved, save me, care for me and I’ll do the same for you; just listen to me and understand my situation. 

“I fucked the selfish kitten!” 

Godammit. It’s over. I’m going to be killed for saying I fucked a kitten. She stared in response until I saw her being her gun up to her eye. I started to run at her in a zig-zagged line, barely avoiding the shots coming my way. 

I rolled into cover, and I heard her reload. The sounds of footsteps were also apparent. I peeked from my hiding spot. She continued to shoot at my body, and I could feel bullets' impacts against my back. 

A guy was coming behind her. He kept creeping. Turn around siren. Turn, look, do something! 

“Fuck my flesh!” 

No, that’s not it. I peeked over again and yelled one more time, “Smash the fucking rabbit!” 

This isn’t working. She’s going to die if I can’t find my words, just say them! 

“Turn around, pretty lady!” I got out of cover and swung my arm. The buzz-axe spun in the air into the enemy's skull. I ran towards him and jumped on his shoulders, digging out the weapon. Once it was out, I jumped off. 

I started to head for the others, laughing my ass off and swinging both of my arms as if I was some ballerina with a mental disorder. 

I stared at the last guy straight in the eyes. “I’m going to put my pain into your soul!” He passed out and laid sprawled on the floor. A yell cut through the air, and I looked back at the sound to see that a man had leaped to me. There was a flash of blue light, and I watched as he was held in place by a portal of some kind. 

My breaths started to heave as I looked at the woman. I blinked at the sight of her up close. Then I let myself hop to the man with both of my axes. They embedded into his skull, and I struggled to pop them out. Once they were out, I stood still, aware of the gaze watching me. 

I should thank her. Tell her that one day I might stop yelling gibberish and turn normal again. I pointed at her, “I sleep for the fucking!” My hands were in the air as I screamed it out. My hoarse voice felt even rougher from everything being ripped out of my lungs.

I could feel the blood that was dripping on me, sliding underneath my shirt to my abs and down to the inside of my boots. I felt entirely wet at that moment. 

A smile came upon the woman’s face as she took in my words.

Huh, I guess I was close enough.


End file.
